


Cake

by July



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/July/pseuds/July
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years since Max and Chloe survived the storm of Arcadia Bay, and it still haunts Max to this day. There's nobody she can talk to about the hell she went through during that week she discovered her time travelling powers, nobody except Chloe. The more Max lets the guilt weigh down on her, the more distant she becomes. After a particularly trying day, Max rediscovers a memento from the past that might bring her closer to Chloe again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake

Dr. Odessa’s harsh blue eyes peered at Max through red-framed glasses, and she winced under the glare. Max folded inward, placing her hand on her opposite arm just above her elbow, giving herself a comforting squeeze. She looked away from the psychiatrists’s eyes, pressing her lips together to keep the words inside. The stuffy, sun-warmed room was silent save for the ticking of an analogue clock sitting beside the doctor’s computer. Max glanced towards it, clenching her jaw when she saw that she still had fifteen minutes left in their session. She could leave whenever she wanted, but the time on the clock felt like an obligation. She was prepared to stay quiet for the rest of her time.

Dr. Odessa sighed, uncrossing her legs as she set the pen of her notebook down. “I’m sorry, Max,” she said slowly, her soft, deep voice taking away some of the edge in her gaze. Max looked up again, slightly surprised to feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

With a nod, Dr. Odessa looked at her notes. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she frowned. “Max, I understand that you don’t want to talk about some things, but I think you’d be making better progress if we did.”

It was Max’s turn to shoot a glare, and Dr. Odessa relented immediately.

“Okay, why don’t you talk to me about Chloe?”

The knots in Max’s stomach began to loosen. That was something easier to discuss, but only slightly. “She’s,” she croaked, pausing for a moment. “We’ve been working through some things, some things you told me to try. I think it’s going well.”

Dr. Odessa studied her for a moment, and Max wanted to shrink. She hated that stare from anybody, but from a woman who was supposed to be helping her, it made her stomach drop. Max felt like she was back in school again, receiving an expectant stare from a teacher when they wanted her to speak up in class. It felt like that stare from _him_ that had looped over and over again. _“The Daguerreotype Process.”_ The longer the silence lasted, the more Max itched to get out of that room.

“Max,” Dr. Odessa sighed. “I can’t help you if you’re being dishonest.”

She didn’t want to show any weakness, but she was too late to catch the hot tear falling down her face.

“You know what I’ve suggested before. I think it’s just the best for both of you.”

Max shook her head vigorously. _No. I’ve gone to hell and back for that woman. I’m never leaving her._ “I’m sorry, Dr. Odessa,” Max mumbled. “But I think I need to go.”

Reluctantly, the doctor made no objection. Max gathered her messenger bag from the floor next to her, swiftly rising from her seat and heading for the door. She tried not to let the tears fall as she walked through the old house-turned-therapist office.

If there was one thing Max agreed with her doctor on, it was that it was completely fucking pointless for her to be there. For five years since she and Chloe settled in the small town of Owen Sound, Max had sought out the professional’s health. In the five years before that, she and Chloe had run from their demons, never stopping long enough to face them.

Max sat in the front seat of her new old Jeep, her hands on the steering wheel as she took deep breaths before starting the engine. She had neglected to splash water on her face, and she was regretting it, feeling her cheeks burning from the summer heat inside that room. The house the office had been built in was old, with all the heat rising into the upper rooms that baked in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Max wiped her forehead, feeling it slick with sweat. There was no use sitting in the even hotter car, and she turned it on, feeling the AC kick on. Still, she didn’t make a move to leave the parking lot.

The only thing Max would return to that afternoon was an empty house. Their tiny bungalow with a picturesque view of the harbour made Max ache with the memory of her childhood home. It was only a narrow bay that the town was situated on, with no everlasting expanse of the ocean, but it was enough to remind her. It was not the ideal place to now call home, but she and Chloe had made their choice long ago. They wanted somewhere quiet and far from home, but easy to get to in the trailer they had at the time — nothing overseas. It was no surprise they had gravitated towards a town that looked so much like Arcadia Bay. As much as the memories hurt, it was a small comfort.

Shifting into drive, Max began to drive out of the parking lot. She didn’t know why she kept going to these appointments every month, twice a month when she was at a low point. She never could tell Dr. Odessa exactly what she wanted to say. There wasn’t anything she could say that wouldn’t make her seem like a total nutcase. The doctor knew Max had survived the mysterious and devastating storm of Arcadia Bay ten years ago, and that the ordeal had left her extremely bereaved and traumatized. She had lost so many people dear to her; classmates, teachers, friends. Only a handful of people in the entire town had miraculously survived, but the death toll had been in the thousands. Max knew all this despite her best efforts to avoid it. She could never tell her therapist what _really_ happened, and it was because of this that they were both getting frustrated. Max wondered if she should finally give up, as the only person who would ever understand exactly what was causing her grief was Chloe.

Max’s heart sank when she remembered Chloe. She would not be back at the house until the evening, and perhaps not even then. The staff at the bar where she worked kept quitting and she was getting overworked. It wasn’t easy to fill positions like that in such a small town were everybody knew everybody. Nobody knew anyone wanting to take up a bartending role. Aside from that, not many people knew Max, either. To say she was shy was an understatement; Max was working her way to being a complete recluse. While Chloe’s bartending paid the bills and let them enjoy some small luxuries once in a while, the real income came from Max. Five years ago before they really settled down, Max’s first anthology of photos had gotten published. Before that, she had submitted photos to various magazines that gained moderate attention and praise. It took a long time and an argument with Chloe about just how tight money was before Max shared any photos of Arcadia Bay just before the storm. She felt like such a sellout, but the publications she had submitted to ate up her photos, offering more money than she’d ever expect to make. It seemed her career in photography was set, but it left a bitter feeling in her stomach.

That was a topic she had talked at length with Dr. Odessa. Max had worked through countless times just how to cope with the decisions she had made. She and Chloe were desperate for the money, and she had really done nothing wrong. In fact, since hardly any photographic evidence of the inexplicable events leading to the storm existed, Max had done a service to the scientific community in finding out exactly what happened. Still, she could only convince herself of that some of the time. She knew exactly what happened.

After the attention, Max had been offered publishing deals, and finally she signed a contract to have her work made into a book that was on the coffee table of every American home. Though her first book had not contained very much on Arcadia Bay at all, her photos were praised by critics and consumers alike. Though she had worked her ass off for her art, Max still felt cheap. It was only because she was know as the survivor of Arcadia Bay (even though there were many others, including Chloe) did she manage to launch a real career. After settling down in a permanent residence, and her fame from her photography book fading, Max had taken to simply submitting new work and keeping a blog for some steady revenue.

For the most part, Max had gotten over her guilt of being a successful photographer. Therapy had at least helped with that. But it could never help with everything plaguing her mind. Whether it was the knowledge that she could have stopped the storm from happening, or the living hell she went through trying to stop it, these were things she could never help. Only once did she ever admit to the doctor that she felt guilty over the storm happening. She was just told that there was nothing she could do to prevent it, and that it was something she needed to accept was not her fault. Only it was, and that advice didn’t do shit.

It took a lot of courage and a lot of time to get her story straight to speak of Jefferson. She didn’t go into specifics, just that he had been drugging and kidnapping girls to take their photos in his underground lair. Max had been in that position. But it didn’t matter, he was dead now.

Max pulled into the driveway of the small house, thankful for the shade the tall trees on the property provided. She left the car, locking it and made her way up to the front door of the house. The bungalow was something of her artistic dreams, so cute and rustic, she knew her eighteen-year-old self’s face would light up if she could see it. And really, Max did appreciate it, but more so when it wasn’t so empty.

Gritting her teeth, Max remembered when Dr. Odessa had remarked on their relationship again that afternoon. Max’s relationship with Chloe had been brought up a lot in the past year. Since leaving Arcadia Bay, it had never been easy between them. It was only after the storm that Chloe finally began to process Rachel’s death which left her quiet and distant from Max for a while when she needed her most. In turn, Max had also become aloof, and their days had been spent driving in silence along the freeway. Max had to be the first one to finally reach out and bridge the gap between them after a week. They broke down in each other’s arms that night.

The first place they went to was to Seattle to stay with Max’s parents for a while. When the dust began to settle, Max told Chloe how she felt. It was in the dead of night, the two of them lying next to each other in Max’s bed, the admission barely a whisper. Their lips simply brushed together, arms wrapping around each other in embrace. It was all they needed then. Thousands of dollars borrowed from Max’s parents and an old trailer later and she and Chloe drove all over the country to begin the healing process. The darkness had always seemed a little less when they were together.

Dr. Odessa had referenced something she said when Max and Chloe were getting into the thick of a low point in their relationship that seemed to be dragging out for nearly a year. Back when it had gotten bad, to the point where Chloe had stormed out of the house one night, the doctor suggested it may be the end for them. She had said that one word Max didn’t want to hear again: _divorce._

Max rubbed her temples as she filled the coffee maker with fresh water and grounds. Her phone was alerting her of a missed call from about half an hour ago when she was still in the office. It was from Chloe, and she didn’t even have to look to know. The coffee maker gurgled as she listened to the voicemail she left.

“Hey Max! I’ve gotta work late again tonight. Call me back about five, I’ll be on break. Love you.”

Max didn’t react as she hung up, simply sighing as she brought out a mug for coffee. She still took it completely black, but Chloe kept around plenty of sugar to load hers up with. She was still bothered by her doctor’s remark that afternoon. There was no way she and Chloe would ever separate, they were just having a rough patch. And she wasn’t lying when she said things had been improving. They hadn’t had a full on fight like the one a year ago again. The only problem now was that their relationship had reached the arctic again. Max couldn’t remember the last time she had really opened up to Chloe. They were so rarely home at the same time these days.

In the living room, Max sat curled up on the couch with her cup of coffee. The bungalow wasn’t nearly as hot as the psychiatrist’s office with the building being modern enough to have central air. The summers in northern Ontario were often beautiful, but they could be deceptively hot. That day had been a bearable heat, nice and dry. An array of composites lay on the coffee table, Max’s latest photographs that she was keen on submitting to one of her favourite magazines. She was going to have a look through some of them that afternoon, but the therapy session had left her feeling rather rotten. As she sipped her coffee, her mind wandered back to Chloe. The next time she saw her, really saw her, they needed to have a talk. The sun may have been warm, but the house was cold. Too many nights she had gone to bed alone, only to sometimes be roused when Chloe eventually joined her in the middle of the night after getting home. Max was up before the sunrise to take pictures and run errands, and only really caught Chloe around noon of she made it home in time.

Her coffee half finished, Max decided that was what she needed to do. She just needed to talk to Chloe again. It was what spouses did, and it would help their marriage. Still, Max couldn’t help but feel there was something missing. Ten years she had with Chloe to talk, and they had done a lot of it, but they were still in this dilemma. Max stood up from the couch, pacing around the living room, taking a look at the shelves and their contents. Lately they had been gathering a number of decorative items and trinkets; Max always found when she was stressed she looked for some random shit in shops. Apparently she had been on a decor trip. She picked up a few items, inspecting them and trying to remember just what the context was surrounding each of them. Just another one of her neuroses. It wasn’t until she moved a cute carved wooden elephant that she paused. Behind the sculpture was a photo frame, something that had been lost behind the collection of crap for a while. The frame itself was something else, not something Max or Chloe would have picked out. The glass frame had been engraved with their names and the date of their wedding day on one side, the other side encasing a single Polaroid. Max had taken a selfie for the occasion, and it was their favourite photo of all the ones taken that day, even by the professional.

Max couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face as she took the frame from its self, dusting off the surface. She felt bad for a second for forgetting it, but quickly lost herself in the image. It was three years ago. Max had worn a simple knee-length casual wedding dress, and Chloe a tailored tux. Chloe’s blue hair was a thing of the past, gone back to her natural blonde cropped shortish in a style Max couldn’t quite define. Whatever it was, it looked good on her in the photo. The two of them grinned almost goofily, their cheeks pressed together in front of the camera. Max remembered the day so well. The ceremony was small, with only close relatives and a couple friends, some of them having survived the storm. Max and Chloe had danced all night, gotten drunk off the open bar and took that picture just before they but the cake. Not long after that during the reception, they got plastered at the open bar. It was a wonderful night. In fact, Max didn’t think she had been as happy since.

The photo went out of focus and a sharp pain hit behind her eyes. Max gasped, the frame falling out of her hands as she brought them to her temples. It shattered when it hit the floor, shards of glass spraying on the floorboards. She dare not move her bare feet, staring down at the shards. The headache disappeared as soon as it had come, leaving her staring down in horror at the broken frame. Max covered her mouth with her hand, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The photo, that headache, it was all so familiar. At once she knew what happened, and her blood ran cold. Max squeezed her eyes shut and pressed around her eye sockets with her fingertips. She had broken their wedding gift, the most cherished piece they received on that day. Bending her knees, Max inspected the pieces of glass ever so carefully, touching the piece that still had Chloe’s name engraved on it. That headache reminded her that there was one way to fix this.

She had not used her rewind power since Arcadia Bay. Although she was sure she could still use it after the storm, Max had vowed never to touch it ever again. So many times she could have used it in the ten years since, but she would gladly take any consequences life threw at her than risk fucking with time again. From bickering with Chloe in an argument she unintentionally started to witnessing the neighbour’s cat run out onto the road while a car was coming, Max had learned that sometimes it was best to just let life happen.

This photo and the frame had meant so much. If Chloe saw that Max had carelessly drop it, what would she think? Max’s arms fell to her sides as she raised a hand out in front of her. Before she knew it, the world was whirring around her, the only sound in the house a rushing one. She focused on the frame at her feet, seeing it unmoving until the pieces snapped back together. She caught a glimpse of her parallel self placing it back on the shelf where she found it, and the room came back into focus. Max;s breath was laboured when she came back to reality, all shards of glass gone from where her feet stood. The frame was perfectly intact where she had found it. She paused for a moment, and breathed a sigh of relief. When she began to push some of the decorative pieces out of the way to bring the photo to the foreground, Max tasted the blood trailing down to her lips.


End file.
